


one drink, two drink, three drink...floor

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [76]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty is determined to get Miller drunk, because he is the best alcohol maker on the ground. </p>
<p>Just because he can make the liquor, though, doesn't mean he can handle it himself, though his plan backfiring may actually be for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one drink, two drink, three drink...floor

Octavia hummed pleasantly then coughed as she took a sip of her drink from the tin cup, and Monty ducked his head to hide a sheepish smile. His newest drink mix was deceptively sweet but packed quite the after-punch. 

“Holy shit, warn a girl, Jasper!” Octavia half-choked, half-laughed.

“So quick to blame,” Jasper clucked with a grin. “Oh how sweet it is to tell you you’re wrong.”

“What?”

“That delectable concoction is not my doing.”

“How much alcohol is in this?”

“Like I said, I have no idea. You’ll have to ask our concocter extraordinaire here.”

“Monty?” Octavia asked incredulously.

There was also a hint of delight in her voice, and it made Monty feel warmer than the alcohol did as it slid into his belly with a burn. So maybe he had sampled his own wares just a tad while making the last batch. He wasn’t _drunk,_ just–smiley. 

“He wants to get Miller drunk,” Jasper whisper-yelled behind his hand. Octavia’s eyes widened.

“Not like that!” Monty hurriedly corrected. “I just–he said he doesn’t get drunk. Can’t, rather.”

“And our tender friend here took offense,” Jasper elaborated. “Reminds me of the time when we were eleven and this punk told him he couldn’t possibly whip up this–”

“No one wants to hear that story, Jasper!”

“I do!” Octavia piped in.

“It ends with Jasper getting his head stuck in a toilet.”

As Octavia giggled, Jasper threw a dark look at Monty, mumbling something about forgetting that part under his breath. With a grin, he flicked his friend’s ear to get him to stop muttering. Jasper lightly punched his shoulder back, and Monty poked his upper arm, and they went back and forth with flailing limbs. It was only when Octavia cleared her throat pointedly that the stopped.

“Hey.”

Monty inhaled, feeling his cheeks heat as he stared up at Miller, who was now standing around their campfire. Gesturing awkwardly with his cup, he glanced towards the still.

“Oh yeah!” Monty hopped up, nearly tripping over his own feet. Okay, so maybe he had done a little more than sample the batch. But he really hadn’t had that much. He thought.

His hands were steady as he took Miller’s cup and poured him a drink, though his pulse jumped wildly when their fingers brushed upon handing it back. Miller stared at him over the rim of the cup, sipping slowly. Monty felt pride well up when Miller’s eyebrows flew up at the first taste, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a surprised smile.

“That’s–really good.” 

Jasper hooted, and Octavia laughed. 

“Thanks,” Monty managed to get out before plopping down into his seat. Miller sat down too, and Monty couldn’t help but grin at the sight. He took a large gulp of his drink– _why was his mouth suddenly so dry_ –as he listened to Octavia and Miller start talking about the new guard recruits. As he watched the light dance across his sharp features, making his eyes even more intriguing, Monty kept sipping, sipping, sipping.

“You might wanna slow down there bud,” Jasper whispered–a real whisper this time, thankfully. Jasper was dramatic, but also loyal. Monty knew he wouldn’t embarrass him on purpose.

Still, he protested. “I’m fine.”

Jasper snorted. “Suit yourself.”

Monty rolled his eyes and poured himself another drink.

* * *

“You really think it’s good?”

Something under Monty’s head rumbled. “Try that again?”

Monty tried to move his lips but they felt heavy. _So heavy._

_“_ You–liked the drink?”

“Yes, I liked the drink. Did _you_  like the drink?”

Sighing happily, Monty nodded and mumbled something that his own ears couldn’t discern. The rumbling came again. He realized it was a laugh.

A slow minute later, the sound clicked. “Nathan?”

A pause. “Yes?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

Another laugh sounded, echoing slightly. Monty furrowed his brow, blinking in the dark. _So dark_ , he realized. Too dark to be outside.

“Where–”

“Your room.”

Confusion and nerves and surprise and happiness surged in his gut–or maybe that was the liquor. He groaned, and a hand gently cupped the back of his head. 

“You okay?”

Monty waited for the twisting in his stomach to subside. The hand came down, stroking, and he melted against the firmness underneath him. “Yeah,” he sighed.

A rumble (a chuckle). “Go to sleep, Monty.”

Nodding into Nate’s chest, Monty smiled, letting the warmth under him and around him pull him into sleep.

* * *

Monty woke to a dry, stale taste in his mouth and a pounding in his head.

“Damn,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright morning light.

“Good morning.”

Monty froze, fingers digging into fabric. It was too soft to be his Ark-issued cotton sheets, made stiff from natural soap and being washed in the river. Then the warm body he was laying on registered. Vague, blurry memories started coming back in fragments.

“Oh, no,” he groaned.

“I’m going to choose not to take offense to that. Usually I’d think people would be happy to find me in bed with them.”

Monty peeked a glance at Miller, who was smiling good-naturedly. Blowing out a breath, Monty started to carefully peel himself off of him. Then Miller’s arms came up and wrapped around him, keeping him in place.

“Um. Please tell me I did not trap you into staying here by drunkenly passing out on you last night.”

Miller’s smile grew wider. “Not exactly. You needed some assistance getting back to your room, and you, ah–”

Monty closed his eyes, waiting for the worst. “Just lay it on me.”

Miller reached up and pushed the hair from his face. Monty cracked his eyes open, and waited. “You said you were sad I couldn’t get drunk, and everybody deserved to get drunk, so you made me that drink mix so I could get drunk. Because it was sad I couldn’t. Oh, and that I was hot and you wanted to make out with my unfairly attractive face.”

Monty choked, and then Nathan started laughing. A deep belly laugh, it was, hearty enough to jostle him, and a happier sound than he had ever heard from the boy he had been infatuated with for months. 

“Did we…” He asked hesitantly.

“No,” Nathan reassured him, kindness in his eyes. “You were pretty drunk, and I wouldn’t–I would never–”

“I know.” Then it clicked. “But um, if I wasn’t? Drunk?”

Miller smiled, a slow heat growing in his gaze.

“Oh,” Monty breathed. Then he laughed. “So my plan backfired a bit, I guess.”

The amusement in Nathan’s face melted into something more serious, more potent. “Maybe not all the way,” he murmured as he arched his head up, eyes flicking to Monty’s lips.

It was a soft kiss, but a heady one nonetheless. Monty hummed in satisfaction, a shiver running through him when Nathan’s fingers dug into his hair. 

When they broke apart, both a little more breathless than they should be, Monty grinned.

“I’m still going to have to get you drunk sometime. To even the score, now.”

Miller chuckled. “Bring it on.”  


End file.
